Men have made love to me, and I was separate.
Beyond my understanding.
My words were in a foreign tongue: were lies.
Now,
Burrowing among your gentle phrases,
Mouse-like, in a nest of warmth,
Finding the closest places
Where our hearts touch home,
I cannot remember where I began,
Except in your following eyes.
darren thomas
Mon 8th Sep 2008 10:21
I like how this begins with the 'coldness' of short clauses and then animates itself with feeling through the longer intimate sentence at the end.
Thanks for the quick response Moira and Antonionioni. Its very friendly of you.
Love this Freda, your exploration of our sense of separation even paradoxically in 'intimacy.' Very touching connection drawn out in beginnings residing in affectionate glances.
Lovely,
Moira
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<Deleted User> (5646)
Tue 9th Sep 2008 19:32
Hi Freda,
Really explains so well, the feeling of being lost in the act loving.
It's lovely. Love Janet.x